


Growth Spurt

by ShianneUrami



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Actual Size Queen Sollux Captor, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, M/M, Size Difference, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:46:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShianneUrami/pseuds/ShianneUrami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're seven foot tall, and he's well over twelve foot. If that helps put anything about the two of you into perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growth Spurt

You’re smaller than him. You’re smaller than a lot of the others but, standing next to him is… a mix of frightening and thrilling. His knees are in line with your groin, and his waist? At your shoulders. He could hip check you and you’d end up on the floor for sure. His arms are the length of your body from the neck down! His horns are each as long as one of your arms! If that… puts anything into perspective at all.

Gamzee’s a big troll, topping out at just over twelve foot tall minus the horns. You’re only just barely seven foot. Which itself is apparently really big for a human? But Gamzee’s a monster to them. A good deal of them fear him, and for good reason. Tiny little things they are.

But being that large, there comes challenges. He doesn’t fit into most lowblood hives properly, so getting to see his palemate is hard for him. His own hive is large enough, but it’s spacious and empty. He’s one of the few highbloods that doesn’t revel in his build. He is close to so many lowbloods that it’s more a burden than anything else.

But honestly, out of everyone, you don’t much mind.

You try to help him through some of the shit he goes through, even if you’re not too good at helping others. (You can hardly take care of yourself half the time.) You reassure him, and you lean on him, dwarfed as you are in comparison. If you two go on a long walk somewhere you’ll sit on his shoulders and you’ve admittedly fallen asleep in his mess of hair, surrounded by the smell of him. He never minds.

The thing that chills him out the most is when you’re close. When you can run your small warm hands over every inch of his cool skin. (There’s a lot to cover.) When you can let him lean on his counter and eat him out. When he hold you in his arms after it’s all over and wraps you up in all that he is. You really can’t ask for much past that.

What makes you smile though is, with how big he is, and with how small you are comparatively, when you pail, it’s always a thrill.

“S-shit GZ~” You groan quietly, rocking your hips up against him. Your back is pressed to his thigh, your head against the floor of his respiteblock. He towers over you, nothing but indigo ashen skin and waves of hair and a slack smile. The ridges lining the underside of his bulge roll against the folds of your nook, not penetrating, but you won’t argue it feels really good.

He settles your legs on his hips again, hands braced under your back. Gamzee leans over you and you’re not even big enough to be folded over. He does spread your hips when he moves like that though, and you can’t help the small whine that escapes your throat. You clamp down on it, biting your lip and he licks his tongue across them, and you let go. You’ve gagged once or twice around his tongue when he gets just a little too rambunctious, but he always apologizes, and you don’t mind that much.

When he’s bent over you like this all you can see is indigo and black. He still rocks gently, rolling those ridges against you, the rest of his bulge tangled between the two of yours. Something you used to look at as disgusting, deformed and mutated, it fits. Two isn’t too much it would overwhelm him, and you can almost hold your own when you two tangle. Almost.

“Sollux?” Gamzee asks quietly, panting against your shoulder, he’s got you pulled up higher so he can reach you, hands wrapping around your body so you won’t slip. He’s leaving huge yellow bruises where he sucks at your skin. You go through your routine of pushing your hands through his hair, pulling it out of his face before you wrap your hands around the base of his horns and nod slowly, your cheek rubbing against the line of his jaw.

He pulls himself back just a little, one huge hand dipping between you to unwind your bulges, guiding the tip of his low. It flicks against you quickly, parting you and teasing at you. Goosebumps prickle across your arms and you brace yourself because no matter what, it always hurts at first. You bite your lip and hold his horns tight.

Gamzee pushes in slow and it burns! It hurts and you whimper, your jaw locked tight. He’s so cold it burns, and the stretch hurts. He’s huge and you always question if you can actually take what he’s giving, but you always manage somehow. It’s not his fault he’s as big as he is. The first ridge knocks the wind out of you. With a heavy crack of psionics, you arch your back, pulling on his horns and he slides two more in, your entire body shaking. This is always the hardest part. You shudder around him, your nook rippling just a bit with how far he’s got it stretched.

Your face is damp with tears, reflex from pain. You don’t bother wiping them away, but Gamzee does notice and stops, which you’re not sure if you’re happy or upset about. He pulls you close, licking up the pale yellow quickly before kissing up your nose and into your hair, “Sorry bro, don’t ever mean to hurt you. Never wanting t-to hurt my reddest heart.”

You choke on a sob when you try to laugh, the breath after quaking as it leaves you. Your skin pulls tight across your ribs as you steady your breathing, loosening one hand on the death grip you had on his horn to pet down his hair, kissing his nose in return, “Y-you’re alright GZ. Jutht don’t thtop. Almotht there.” You swallow around the lump in your throat and rock your hips from side to side a little.

He squirms inside you, leaning in to catch your slack mouth with a kiss, distracting you well enough he can push two more ridges in. He’s never been able to fit all of himself inside you. He’s just way too big for that. Four or five of the ridges at the base stay outside, indigo and yellow dripping from them. He’s already doubled over inside you and you’re panting hard, your stomach tight from the pressure he’s putting on you and the act itself.

But never once has there been a point where you regret this. Karkat calls you a size queen. You’ve never actually openly argued against that statement, which gets you pestered about it even more. You think he’s just jealous he’s not a highblood. You never argue though, because when you look down his chest, down your own, to where your hips are joined, you almost lose it right there. Can’t lie about that.

You can see his bulge under your flesh, as little there is of that, roiling and shifting in your nook, pressing up against the walls and your lower stomach. Your air sacs clench, and your head falls back, you are such a fucking disgusting troll. You trail one hand down his face, cupping his cheek before you set it against your pelvis, the subtle shift of Gamzee’s bulge in you makes you moan against him.

“Th-tho fucking good GZ.” You pant out, kissing him gently, pushing your hips up against his.

He knows that you’re settled now, the hand between your stomachs braided with your bulges, palm pressed flat to feel the shift of him inside you. Gamzee leans down and the rumble in the bottom of his chest is comforting. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you. He just wants the two of you to feel good. And honestly, it’s all you want. You push your free hand through his hair, down his back as far as you can reach with your short arms and up around his chest.

He never thrusts so much as rocks a little, letting his bulge do most of the work, as there’s not much space to spare.

“Burning up Sol, s’like the suns!” He growls quietly, and you have no words in return. Your pan stopped processing petty things like words and thoughts some time ago and it was threatening to cut your line to breathing, the pleasure overloading your systems. With each exhale, a small handful of round soft psionics escape your eyes and fingertips. He chuckles quietly, and you know it’s because that’s one of his most favorite parts about you.

‘You’re just the same as any other troll, ‘cept you got nothing but fireworks and energy and warmth coursing through you. Little miracle you are my sunspot.’

A harsh thrash and Gamzee’s breath staggers. You stop breathing for a second, gasping when it shifts the other way. You drag claws down his back and push yourself up into him more. He snaps his hips down at the same time and pushes another ridge past the line of your nook. You lose it right there, your composure crumbling with a long, low pathetic stuttered whine. Your fingers scramble against him, not enough coordination to even mark him, twitching as you push against him as much as you can, limbs shaking.

A few trickles of yellow drip past his bulge, but your stomach is bulging ever so slightly with the excess fluids that can’t escape past how tight he is in you. One big hand fumbles over the side of the concupiscent couch and the tink of claws on hollow metal make you shiver. Gamzee’s biting into his lip, trying not to move too much, clinging to the edge of his own release, panting hard through his nose.

He settles it in between his legs and your own genetic material in your nook sloshes when he moves and he loses it, surrounded by white hot fluids. He sets his head down next to yours and the look on his face, or what you can see of it as he empties without a sound is breathtaking alone. A few plinks of liquid against metal is no problem, but the majority of it rushes out with a twitch of his hips and you swallow hard at the sound, panting against his ear still.

When you can’t hear dripping anymore, he lifts the two of you up slowly, holding you close to his chest and over the bucket, kissing against your hair. He’s slow with it, pulling himself free carefully, each wet pop of his ridges pulling free pulls a small choked sob from you. The patter of your fluids being added to his is less scandalous, nothing like the harsh metallic echo.

He pulls the last of it free from you and you feel hollow, stretched too far and now so empty. You almost want it back. But with how sensitive you are now, that would be a bad idea. The last of your gold meets his purple in the bucket under you and you slump against him, you bulges retracting with a small hiss, nerves still firing off.

Boneless and exhausted you lean on him and he nuzzles into your hair, chuckling quietly.

“You alright there Sollux?”

You blink up at him, bleary eyed. A lazy smile curls at the edges of your lips and you headbutt his chest gently, “Fucking fantathtic.”

He scoops you up, and you don’t bother holding on because you know he’s got you. He settles down into his coon with you in his arms, your body curled up and resting on his chest. The smell of him and the sweet scent of sopor surround you and you start dozing off that fast.

“Pity you my reddest bro.” He mutters, voice thick with sleep.

“All my brightetht heartth GZ.” You return the gesture, falling asleep in his arms.

Your name is Sollux Captor, and you’re not very big, at a measly seven foot. Gamzee Makara is twelve foot tall and towers over everyone you know. But really, that just means there’s that much more of him to pity. And you don’t think you could any more than you do right now.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Saofish's height chart: http://saofish.tumblr.com/post/47841516745/saofishstudios-okay-gracious-this-is-certainly


End file.
